A Walk
by suspiciousteapot
Summary: From ninthbrightshiner: "Lirael returns to the Library and puts back the statue of the Dog."


She came back because she knew she had to. This place was full of pain, anger and sorrow, but it had been her home. She noticed idly that she used the past tense to describe it more easily now, a year and a half after Orannis.

It was night. Most of the Clayr were asleep. She had flown all day and arrived some time after nightfall. Sanar and Ryelle had hugged her when she'd arrived and said she was free to stay in her old room in the library, should she want to. She did.

Her room seemed smaller than she remembered it; almost stifling, but perhaps it was just the memories that lined the walls and littered the desk that made it seem that way. At least in this place they were mostly good memories.

She sat down on her bed and slowly opened her pack. She drew out a small, smooth sculpture.

She studied its canine features for a long while, wondering for the millionth time why she had brought it, and finding the answer hidden deep inside of her, as she had every other time she considered the question.

She had told Sabriel that she had to leave for the Glacier as she had a bound Stilken there, and had to go get it. Once bound in crystal, Stilkens were no real threat, but it would be better to take it out of the Library, where an unsuspecting young librarian might inadvertently unleash it, she had explained. She could see that her sister had guessed the real reason for her journey, but Sabriel had only smiled somewhat sadly and told her that if that was what she felt, she should go bring it back.

The soapstone dog had sat on her desk, watching her pack for her journey.

Once she was done, she had climbed into bed, but been unable to sleep. The Dog's stone eyes watched her balefully.

She had sat on the edge of her bed in the castle for a long time, looking at the soapstone statue that didn't quite capture her friend's warmth. After a long while, she rose and put it in her pack, closed everything up and slept soundly.

Now the Dog's statue sat on a different desk, the desk where she'd been summoned. Briefly Lirael had the mad desire to try to summon the Dog again. Her notes on it were still in her desk and surely…

No. She knew that was wrong. Her ankle tingled and she almost smiled at the knowledge that the Dog would be angry with her for even thinking of trying that.

She sighed and went to sleep, knowing what she must do the next day.

The next morning, before the wake up call, Lirael rose and dressed. She put on her old uniform, but slung her bandolier across her chest and belted her sword at her hip. She collected the little crystal bottle from the old yellow waistcoat she had always left hanging on a hook on her door and stowed in in a small, secure pocket in her pack. It had been her first waistcoat, and she had not been able to throw it away.

She checked the mouse in her pocket, mostly out of habit, and headed to the door that was still sealed with Charter magic and wax. Resealed, by someone else, she noticed.

The room with the tree was exactly as it had been a lifetime ago, the pretty flowers and strange sunlight giving the room a feeling of false peace.

The moon door opened to her spell, and she squeezed through it, wondering that she was now able to fit, even with a bandolier. The points of the moon seemed less sharp as well. She moved on.

Soon she stood before the little plinth in the room with the floor of broken crystal that no longer contained a Stilken.

The dust swirled among the faint light of the thousands of ancient Charter marks on the walls.

She looked down at her friend's face for a long while.

"I miss you. I have other friends and loves, but I still miss you." She finally told the Dog.

"I asked your for help, and you sacrificed yourself for me. I can't wish I'd died binding the Destroyer, but in some ways I think I did. I loved you, so you were part of me. I'm different, and that's not bad, but it's not easy."

She felt tears gather in her eyes.

She placed the Dog in the center of the plinth. "I'm moving forward now. I assume you are too, wherever you are."

The tears fell freely down her face, but she paid them no heed. "I love you, I miss you, and I will always remember you."

She thought she felt a nudge at her hand. It was the signal the Dog had so often used before when demanding a walk. She smiled through her tears. What better when to honour the Dog's memory than with a walk?


End file.
